


Outfitters.

by Michaelssw0rd



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Fluff, M/M, and lotsss of emotions., fluffy fluff, with cheese on top, with slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 14:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/pseuds/Michaelssw0rd
Summary: 5 times Merlin dressed Arthur, and one time Arthur returned the favor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Tavern_Tales February theme of Cloaks, Masks, Armor.

1.

Arthur sauntered into the tent, pride in the set of his shoulders, satisfaction in his steps. He had won. Of course he had. Technically he knew he was the best swordsman in the kingdom, but it sure was nice to see the proof of it every now and then. Especially now when he got to exercise his combat skills so rarely, stuck in the mundane paperwork that came with his title.

Being a King was hard work. Hard, unexciting, mind numbing work.

He took off his helmet, placing it on a table, and was greeted by the sight of Merlin, beaming at him, his eyes alight with pride and excitement. Arthur let the smile tugging at the edges of his lips grow into an all-out grin.

“You won!” Merlin exclaimed.

“Of course I did. Did you ever doubt that?” He tried to sound haughty but the relief in his voice was palpable. He knew he wasn’t fooling Merlin.

“I was so worried, you Prat!” Merlin said. Arthur opened his arms and Merlin crashed into him, hugging him tightly over the armor. For a second, the King bemoaned the presence of it, because he could not feel the warmth of Merlin’s arms around him.

“That’s because you are slow!” Arthur hid his face in his lover’s shoulder, and murmured. “When have you ever known me to lose a fight?”

“Arse,” he replied intelligently. Arthur hugged him back tightly though, because Merlin was right to worry. The fight was close. For a moment there, he wasn’t sure if he would win. He wasn’t even sure if he would live!

Disentangling, Arthur was taken by surprise when Merlin grabbed his face and smashed their lips together. It was a very welcome surprise. The very best kind of reward Arthur could ask for, for winning the tourney, and he melted into it with a moan.

“King Arthur.” Someone entered the tent, opening the flap, and Arthur felt Merlin suddenly trying to distance himself. He put an arm around his waist, keeping him close, as the young servant who had entered stuttered, “Lord Merlin,” he curtsied and Arthur was suddenly more inclined to cutting him some slack.

Merlin was red as a tomato, and Arthur glared at the boy, until he managed to put together a sentence. “I-I really didn’t mean to interrupt My Lords, but the c-crowd is calling for their champion.”

Arthur nodded, and the young man quickly rushed out the marquee. He turned around smirked at still embarrassed Merlin.

“I will never get used to it,” Merlin said in a small voice.

“You will. You are the King’s Consort now. A royalty. Finally you will understand my pain.”

“Must be such a pain having your ass pampered all the time,” Merlin said, sarcastic.

“Hey. Is that any way to talk to your King? And not to mention the Champion of the People.” Arthur boasted.

Merlin rolled his eyes, and said in his customary sarcastic tone that Arthur so loved, “I do apologize _Sire_.  But shouldn’t you be heading out now?”

Arthur nodded, reluctantly. He bent and pecked Merlin on his lips once more and turned to leave. Before he could pick up his helmet, Merlin reached out and lightly touched his arm. He stopped.

Carefully, reminding Arthur of the years long past, he picked up the helmet. Arthur bent his head a bit, and saw Merlin looking at him with adoration in his eyes as he murmured, “My champion.” Then he placed the helmet on his head. Like a crown.

Arthur walked out of the tent, his head held high at the screams of the crowd. For once, he felt like he deserved his title. He felt like a King.

* * *

2. 

Arthur was getting ready for the battle. He had to. He had picked up the gauntlet, he was challenged and he couldn’t back out. Even though he knew that Lord Belhindle was a liar and a trickster and he was being led into a trap- a deadly one. It’s better him than a hoard of knights. Arthur had a duty towards his kingdom; his people. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the tears he tasted on Merlin’s lips as he moved on top of him last night. Tried not to think of their hug in the morning as a goodbye, and watched in cold detachment as a servant readied his armor.

He had to do this.

But for Merlin, he will try to live.

The door opened and the man he was thinking about entered into the armory. Merlin waved his hand and the servant left. Arthur stared. He had no words. He had murmured them all against his lover’s skin in the dark of the night as he let his guards down, and laid his heart out.

Merlin walked to stand in front of table where his armor was laid out, and ran his fingers lightly over the vambraces, the shield. Without looking back at Arthur, he asked,

“I guess it’s foolish to hope you have changed your mind.” He sounded so lost, and disheartened, Arthur’s heart ached.

“Merlin,” he whispered, a plea. It was difficult as it was, seeing Merlin broken like this was making his courage falter.

“Please Arthur. Let me come with you,” Merlin begged as he brought his chest plate, setting it on his front and tying it securely.

“We discussed this.” Arthur swallows. “I need you here. I need you safe. I need a reason to come back.” He whispers the last one, a confession.

Merlin was setting the plate on his back and Arthur felt him rest his forehead on it, and nod slightly. He hated that he was causing Merlin distress but he was helpless.

“Uh.” Merlin started, and Arthur stiffened because this sounded like something new, another assault on his already crumbling defenses. “I know you don’t trust it…”

Merlin’s voice was brittle, full of doubt, and he knew instinctively what he was talking about. Magic.

“I know you don’t trust it… but please…”

“Anything Merlin. Anything you want.” He turned around and cupped his sorcerer’s face. He had confided his secret in him just a few days ago, when the threat of an army marching against Camelot was rising. It was his justification for wanting to come along. For showing his competence in protecting Arthur.

Things had been strained between them since then, until now. When he was walking to face an enemy too crafty for him. One he wasn’t sure he could defeat. He would embrace Merlin together with everything he was, because it might be the last time he could do it.

Merlin’s eyes were filled with tears as he nodded, and then stepped back, putting Arthur’s armor on him piece by piece. It felt like old times, when things were simpler, when Arthur wasn’t carrying the burden of entire kingdom on his shoulders.

With every piece fitting together- in a way that no other servant could ever manage, because Merlin knew every inch of him, every quirk- Merlin pressed his lips to the metal, murmuring in a language only he understood. Arthur was sure he wasn’t imagining how warm it felt after the fact.

Later, when he stepped into the ambush he was expecting and yet walked right in, no spear could pierce his shield. Swords broke before coming in contact with his skin, and the spells bounced back. Arthur suddenly, fiercely, loved Merlin even more. Loved his loyalty, his brilliance… and yes, his magic.

He had made sure he accompanied Arthur even when he couldn’t be here physically. He had made sure Arthur was invincible. Made sure the King could get back to his sorcerer, and Arthur couldn’t be more grateful.

* * *

3.

It was early morning and he had to prepare for his meeting with the counsellors in a few hours. After getting dressed halfheartedly, he nudged the still sleeping Merlin multiple times, until deciding that was a fruitless effort. Groggily Arthur picked up papers from the table, and carelessly knocked over a heavy brass basin. In slow motion, he watched it fall, too dazed to move away. When it landed on his left foot, he was expecting the pain, flinching on impulse.

The basin bounced on his shoe and tumbled away, harmlessly. He stared in shock at the bowl, and then at his feet, and his sleepy brain took a few moments to register the lack of pain.

Slowly, he turned around and stared at Merlin, who was blinking awake at the sound of the crash. Noticing his scrutiny, his lover unselfconsciously stretched and asked,

“What are you looking at?”

Deciding to forego the suggestiveness for a moment, too preoccupied, he asked, “Did you… enchant my _shoes_?” He was sure his tone conveyed how absurd he found the idea.

“No.” Merlin replied, too late. His ears were flushing, and Arthur knew there was something there.

“Merlin…”

“I didn’t enchant your shoes okay.” He swore, shuffling back so he was sitting with his back supported by the headboard. He looked like a child who had misbehaved.

“What did you do?” Arthur asked, because he knew his partner too well. Those expressions screamed guilty.

“I…. I might’ve enchanted your socks.” Merlin admitted in a low voice.

“ _MY WHAT_?”

“Your socks. You heard me correctly… no need to make me repeat it.” Merlin was blushing now, and if Arthur wasn’t so completely bewildered, he would find it adorable.

“But… But why?” Helplessly, he tried to do something more than just open and close his mouth.

“I like your little toes okay. Didn’t want them to get hurt.” Merlin muttered into his chest… and Arthur finally got over his shock.

He threw his head back and laughed, making Merlin grin too, albeit shy. There was nothing for it. The counsel was going to have to wait. He stalked over towards his still naked lover to show him how much he appreciated his little toes too, along with everything else.

* * *

4.

“Are you nervous,” Merlin asked the third time since morning and Arthur clenched his fists tightly.

“Merlin, for the love of God…”

“Sorry. I am sorry. You just look nervous.” Merlin explained, fidgeting beside him, as Arthur wore his coat and fixed it in front of a mirror.

“I am not nervous.” It was a lie. They both knew that. But admitting it was something Arthur would never do. He didn’t even have to. He knew Merlin could read it in the furrows in his brow and the slant of his lips. He just wished that Merlin would just shut up for once…

Except not really.

“I am nervous.” Merlin admitted quietly in the end, moving away to pick up Arthur’s red cloak which was decorated with the pendragon emblem. “But I am so proud of you, for doing this, for being the King I always knew you would be.”

Merlin stood behind him, and Arthur could see him in the mirror, could see the sincerity and love in his eyes. The admiration.

Swallowing around a lump in his throat, he murmured, “Shut up Merlin.” Hastily, he picked up his crown and placed it on his head, unceremoniously. If he thought too much about it, the weight of the crown would bury him into the ground.

Merlin moved, swift with practiced hands, tied and pinned his cloak neatly around his neck, and then ran his fingers on the broach on the front- a delicate leaf- and smoothed the curls of the fabric.

“Good luck,” he whispered, and then tugged Arthur’s face down until he could place his lips on his forehead, kissing it. Arthur closed his eyes, courage finding hold in his heart.

Today he was walking out into the court room to denounce the order his father had enforced two decades ago. Today he was making magic legal, and declare all magic users free people of the kingdom. Today, he was taking a step towards his destiny.

As he opened his mouth to issue the new order, he glanced at his side to see Merlin, standing a few steps behind but an unflinching support, and was grateful. He wouldn’t rather any other way. The pride in his partner’s gaze made his spine straighter and his feet more stable, as he changed the destiny of Camelot. Forever.

* * *

5.

“What is this?” Gwaine asked, as Merlin placed a folded bundle of coarse brown cloth in his arms. Merlin didn’t reply to him, as he continued putting a bundle each in the arms of Leon, Percival and lastly Arthur.

Then he stepped back and looked with quiet pride at the four men holding brown fabrics in their hands and beamed.

“Lord Merlin.” Leon was always courteous. Arthur smiled when he saw Merlin flinch at the title. “I don’t understand. What are these?”

“These… are your shrouds.”

“They look like old rags.” Gwaine wrinkled his nose.

“Exactly.” Merlin commented.

“What?” Percival looked completely confused.

Arthur decided to intervene finally, “Merlin. Can you please stop your ridiculous grinning and explain what the plan is?”

“Oh. Yes. Right,” Merlin clapped his hands and went into his explaining mode. “Where you are going, you wouldn’t want to be noticed, and I am sorry to say hardly any of you looks commonplace. You stand out.”

Gwaine preened, Leon chucked, and Arthur frowned, but it smoothed out when Merlin’s winked at him. He was still Merlin’s favorite and that’s all that mattered.

“So… the plan is to make us look like servants?” Leon asked for clarification.

“Yes…” Merlin mused, cryptic, “and no.”

“Get to the bloody point already.” Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin was having far too much.

“You will hardly look ordinary even if you’re wearing this. Especially with the armor underneath… so I did a little something…” Merlin wriggled his fingers and Gwaine gasped.

“This is magic cloth!” And proceeded to examine the fabric with a lot more interest.

Merlin laughed. “Yes. I enchanted it to make anyone who looks at it register it as ordinary and boring. Which will let you guys pass as travelers when you enter through the enemy gates.”

“Thank you. That’s very convenient.” Percival praised as Gwaine eagerly spread the shroud and draped it over his shoulders. The effect was immediate. Arthur automatically wanted to disregard him. Leon hummed appreciatively.

“What? What happened?” Gwaine asked excitedly. “Come on Perce. You do it too. I want to see.”

Ever indulging of Gwaine’s whimsy, Percival unfolded his own and wore it around his large frame. Gwaine jumped excitedly. It was the first time he was wearing anything magic so Arthur could forgive him that. Arthur on the other hand, had been wearing enchanted garments ever since he first let Merlin cast a spell on his armor. It was an everyday thing for him now.

Yet, looking at Merlin beaming with happiness, because he was finally allowed to share his skills with others, made something warm unfurl in his heart.

“Ready to go Sire?” Leon’s voice snapped him into the present. All three of the knights were looking remarkably average by now, and Arthur was the only one remaining.

“Yes.” Arthur nodded, and begin to follow their lead, but Merlin’s hand on his stopped him.

“Let me,” Merlin whispered, and took the fabric from his arms and slowly, with surprising intimacy, spread it across his shoulders, smoothing it across his back with his hands, and came to stand in front of him.

“I almost feel like all my effort was in vain.” Merlin looked into his eyes, awe evident in them, “You still look like a King.”

“Get a room you two!” Gwaine called out, breaking their bubble.

Merlin blushed, but Arthur threw a glare at the doorway, where the knights were waiting for him, the other two having averted their eyes and giving them privacy, and said, “We do have a room Gwaine. Where I bed Merlin every night. Now, if you will excuse me, I want to snog my partner before we head out on his perilous journey.”

Gwaine sputtered, not expecting a direct response, and then leered. Merlin blushed brighter, but also sniggered a bit, and let Arthur press their lips together.

* * *

+1.

Merlin stood in the middle of the room, arms at his side, as Arthur fastened the strings at the front of his shirt, making it fit better. Then he brought a blue studded coat, and stood behind Merlin, waiting for him to shrug it on.

“I can do it myself Arthur.” Merlin turned around and tried to take the coat but Arthur just shook his head. “This feels strange.” Merlin bit his lip.

“I know you can do it yourself. I want to.” Arthur explained. Merlin looked at him helplessly for a moment before nodding, and letting Arthur help him wear the coat.

When Arthur kneeled in front of Merlin, to help him wear his shoes, the sorcerer balked.

“I can’t. This isn’t right!”

“Why not?” Arthur looked up.

“Because you’re the King.”

“And in a few hours, you would be the Court Sorcerer. A title as respectable as mine. Don’t be a child Merlin. Let me.” He tugged on Merlin’s leg, and Merlin looked at him wide eyed for a moment, resisting.

“You have done it for me a thousand times over. Let me do this. Today.” Arthur pleaded. He didn’t know why it was so important to him, but it was as much for himself as for Merlin… if not more.

“Okay.” Merlin agreed, his voice rough.

Arthur helped Merlin into his shoes, and tied the laces, feeling both humbled and elated by the act. He could understand why his lover did that so often, why he never let any other servant do this. There was certain intimacy in the act… certain trust.

He got up and picked the gloves, and noticed Merlin’s fingers were shaking when he spread them out. Carefully, he pulled the glove on his hand and then caressed it, raising to press his lips to it. Lastly, he picked up the blue cape, the Pendragon emblem etched on it, merged in a beautiful and intricate design with the staff of magic, and draped it over the sorcerer’s shoulders, pinning it properly.

Looking at him from a distance, he looked fit for a throne. He didn’t resemble the bumbling idiotic servant at all.

He looked like Emrys.

Picking up the staff, the one he was to present to Merlin in front of the court, he went down on one knee, holding it up in front of him in his outstretched palms like a knight presenting his sword. In a way, he was doing the same thing. He was swearing allegiance.

Above him, Merlin gasped. And then he heard a thud, and opened his eyes to see Merlin had dropped to his knees as well. Impatiently, he pushed at the staff until it fell on the ground and rolled away, and grasped both of Arthur’s palms.

“You idiot.” His voice was wet, there were tears in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?” He asked, clenching both of Arthur’s hands in his, as if anchoring himself.

“I thought this was more appropriate.” Arthur admitted, chuckling a little self-consciously, “In the ceremony, you would be bowing in front of me, but we all know you swore loyalty to me ages ago. It’s time I swore it back.”

Merlin shuffled forward and hugged Arthur, awkward and all limbs, burying his face in Arthur’s neck. There was wetness spreading on the King’s skin and he rubbed his hands on Merlin’s back, calming him down.

“I love you. I love you. I love you, you Prat.” Merlin was muttering, sobbing until he started laughing, elated and terrified by the depth of his emotions for his King. Arthur himself found his eyes tearful, but there was a smile lingering on his lips, as he said the words back unreservedly.

Later, after composing themselves, they both walked side by side towards the main hall. Stalling outside the doors, he looked at Merlin and asked, “You nervous?”

Merlin smiled at him, genuine, and replied, “With you by my side… Never.”

And together, they walked their first steps towards the creation of Albion.

**Author's Note:**

> (I blame my sister who is also my Merlin beta for this ridiculous name. Because she insisted and _threatened_ )


End file.
